Welcome Back My Friends to the Boat Show That Never Ends by Jeff Hunt

"It entered our dimension through some appalling portal in 1968, an unspeakable Cuthulian horror that's never, ever going to leave. It lives deep in the ocean, and waits for the humans to summon it via ritual invocation at the RV and Boat Show."

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Tony Conrad Movie at Volksbühne, Berlin by Table of the Elements

When he fled Harvard in 1961, contrarian Tony Conrad escaped into the restricted ruins of post-war East Berlin. Now he returns, via Tyler Hubby’s celebratory opus, Tony Conrad: Completely in the Present. The host is Volksbühne, Germany’s most iconic theater. Is Tony rolling in his grave? We like to think he’s rolling in the aisles.

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"He's Our Shortstop" by Jeff Hunt

First Base: Who
Second Base: What
Third base: I Don't Know
Left field: Why
Center field: Because
Pitcher: Tomorrow
Catcher: Today

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Death by Numbers ("Come in Number 51, Your Time is Up") by Jeff Hunt

“If you guys are really us, what number are we thinking of…?”
— Theodore “Ted” Logan, Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure

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Charles Foster Kane In the Jurassic Sunset by Jeff Hunt

"...It’s difficult to fathom today. The maturation of rock ‘n’ roll happened with immeasurable velocity. It was a subatomic chain reaction. In the blink of a mind’s eye, music exploded from Elvis 45s to Sgt. Pepper’s; from “How Much Is That Doggie In the Window” to “Interstellar Overdrive.” One moment there was just the 45 RPM disk in a plain paper sleeve, dutifully waiting to inseminate a malt-shop jukebox; then there were phonograph albums, issued strictly as knock-off asides and cash-in novelties; and then, in a mushroom cloud of self-awareness and self-realization and self-actualization and self-indulgence, the album was The Album, the means to the end, The Alpha and The Omega of Rock. And they saw that the LP jacket and its inner sleeve were naked, and the Children of Rock were ashamed...."

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Daguerreotypes of the Living Dead by Jeff Hunt

The wildly versatile multi-media artist Bradly Brown defies expectations, and he does so in perverse, science-fictitious splendor. I’m biased, as he’s not only my creative collaborator but my friend, but this gaunt Texan has the real goods at the farthest flung trading posts: expertly crafted wampum that cloaks value in vivid, secretive layers. His intuitive design skills alone merit high praise; in an era in which graphic artists often succumb to Novocaine levels of digital numbness, Bradly’s work pounces out of two-dimensional confines. If you have a deft sensibility, you can see it breathe and pulsate. Spirits of silver nitrate float; dead voices carry; bestial dystopia beckons.

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Astride a Sound by Jeff Hunt

"Paul Duncan hails from the edge of the Piney Woods region of East Texas, where that state begins its lazy, humid segue into Louisiana. He lives in the sub- and pan-cultural particle accelerator that is New York City. And as a singer, songwriter and multi-instrumentalist, he is one of the most versatile and forward-thinking talents you're likely to encounter."

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Not Everything That Rises Must Also Converge by Jeff Hunt

“A lot of new music boasts of a good time, but it ends up being the same caffeinated sugar water in a fancy plastic bottle, completely lacking in nutrients, life, and anything that’s good for you. Peg Simone’s new music begins from pure places like poetry, the spoken word, the human breath, feedback, the mystical side of folk and blues, and the effect is icy water coming off the mountain, tasting of soil, rock and organic matter; you want to drink it and let it drip down your neck.”
Black Francis (The Pixies)

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